


Take Five

by TheFalconWarrior



Series: Touch the Sky [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Scribbles, Siblings, idek why I'm posting this tbh lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22907194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFalconWarrior/pseuds/TheFalconWarrior
Summary: It's the middle of February but Dick and Tim go to the beach anyways.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: Touch the Sky [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587028
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	Take Five

**Author's Note:**

> Following my "everything I write gets posted, someday or the other" rule, I figured I might as well post this while it's still February.

Tim doesn’t really pay much attention to Groundhog Day. He doesn’t know whether the Groundhog woke up or went back to sleep, but if anyone starts lauding the start of spring he will happily pin them to a wall with a batarang. 

Tim has never liked February. February is when maybe it’s supposed to be spring, and the commercial world definitely seems to think so, but then there might be a blizzard halfway through, so everyone’s a little off on what season, exactly, it is. February is when it’s always gray and gloomy and it rains every other day. February days start just a little late and end just a little early. 

Worst of all, February ends quickly, and the end of the month speeding at him faster than he expected never fails to give Tim anxiety. 

Well. The only good thing about February is that this year it’s giving them a _whole 'n_ _other_ _extra day_. Hip hip hooray. 

He runs through these thoughts as he showers, brushes his teeth, and gets dressed. _Another_ stupid thing about February is how the temperature windmills from a-warm-sweater-will-do to hey-it's-below-freezing-get-at-least-four-layers on. 

He puts on one of his warmer hoodies. There’s a jacket in his car if he needs it. 

Dick had a night shift last night, but Dick also sleeps like the dead here in their apartment, so Tim doesn’t worry about banging the cabinets as he grabs a bowl, milk, and the box of Honey Bunches of Oats. 

It had been late enough when Dick got home that even _Tim_ had gone to bed. So as Tim sat there, dressed for uni and wolfing down cereal, Dick banging into the kitchen was the last thing he expected. 

Tim started, the cereal and milk in his spoon splashing onto the table. Tim scowled at it but quietly thanked God it hadn’t fallen on his jeans. 

“Why’re you up?” 

Dick, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, beamed at him as he passed, pausing to ruffle Tim’s hair and drop a kiss against his cheek. “Morning, Little Brother.” 

Tim stuck another spoonful of cereal in his mouth and watched suspiciously as Dick practically danced over to the cabinets, grabbing his own bowl and cereal. He spun around and plopped onto the stool across from Tim. 

“We’re going out,” he announced. 

Tim blinked, slowly. “I have school?” 

Dick pursed his lips. “Ah, c’mon, Timmy. You see the weather outside?” 

“No.” 

“Hm. What classes?” 

“Computing? And Calc.” 

Dick waved a hand. “You already know all they could teach you in computing. And the calc professor posts his notes, right? I’ve seen you work through those before.” 

Tim took another bite of cereal. “You want me to skip class.” 

Dick leaned forward. “C’mon, Tim. It’s absolutely gorgeous outside. It’s been gloomy and gray for weeks, it was frickin below freezing two days ago, and we’ve all been working our butts off, and who know when we’ll have a day like this again?” 

Tim tapped his spoon against his lips, considering. 

Well. It’s not like he actually _wanted_ to go to class. 

One of the reasons Tim pities people in 30 states—as well as plenty of people in 19 of the others: they don’t have the ocean. 

Dick parks the car, and they both hop out and head straight to the sand. 

They walk. 

It’s absolutely beautiful. The sky is blue and bright and cloudless, fading into blue-gray and then white at the sharp edge where it meets the ocean. Flat and glinting, rolling and roiling as green-brown waves follow foamy white caps bobbing towards shore, tumbling against the sand, painting the shore in kaleidoscopes and mirrors as they pull back. 

There’s a couple of other people walking about. Mostly couples, several dogwalkers. There’s a constant breeze from the ocean, not nipping or buffeting but just quietly tugging at loose scraps of clothes, gently pushing hair into disarray. Most the other beachgoers are in winter jackets and hats. 

Dick and Tim march on in hoodies over long-sleeved t-shirts. 

There’s something about the ocean. It feels like there’s no need to do much else then _be_ there. Dick starts up the conversation, lightly, something about Gotham U, and they talk about nothing and everything as they let their feet carry them forward, and forward, and forward, cool sea wind in their faces and sand shifting beneath sneakers and the ocean crashing and calling at their side. 

They must have passed the point where most people turn back, because the sand is smoother here, marred by only three or four trails of footprints. Dick stops, toes off his sneakers, and bends down to pull off his socks. 

“Oof, it’s cold,” he says, as he grabs his shoes. 

Tim raises an eyebrow at him, then shrugs, pulling off his own shoes as well. 

The sand is cool and feathery beneath his bare feet, slipping over his toes and half burying his feet. He grabs up his shoes, and they start walking again. 

“So,” says Dick. “How’s the San Fran gang?” 

“...21, 22, 23, 24.” Tim grinned and knocked his shoulder against Dick. “Take _that_ , twenty.” 

Dick shoved him back. “Shut up, Babybird, I can still throw farther than you.” He bends down for another rock. There aren’t all that many of them, today. Mostly just smooth sand. 

“Look at that,” Dick says, handing the rock to Tim. Tim looks. It’s translucent, striped through with shades of purple. 

“You should polish it and wire-wrap it and give it to Steph,” Tim says, and Dick hums, thoughtfully, before dropping the rock into his pocket. 

“Think that’d actually work?” 

“Maybe? You actually thinking about it?” 

“Well, one way to find out, hunh?” 

“That’s assuming you’re any good at jewelry making.” 

“Excuse me, I excel at everything I put my head to.” 

Tim makes a face. Dick shoves him, again, so Tim shoves him back, and then yelps and laughs as Dick tackles him to the sand. 

They’re definitely covered in sand as they trudge back, retracing footsteps long since lost to the sand. 

There’s a lot more people, now. Families with little kids in puffy jackets in little clusters. Couples and groups of teenagers. Way too many dogs considering the “No Pets Year Round” sign at the entrance. 

It’s a little funny, but they’re the only ones headed in this direction. 

Dick opens the windows as he turns on the car. 

“Totally worth it,” Tim says. Dick turns to smile at him. They’ve both been smiling all day, but this one is a little quieter, a little gentler. 

“Definitely,” he agrees. 

Tim turns to get one last look at the sand before they’re leaving the parking lot. 

“So,” says Dick. “Burgers?” 

**Author's Note:**

> So. To Februarys, the ocean, and that sibling who will pop up and wheedle you into skipping out on class, or calling out from work, or just abandoning homework to go out, because part of life is spending a few hours just doing nothing in particular and just being.  
> Took me forever to realize it, but really. Spending a bit of money, a bit of time simply on something that makes you happy? It's not a waste.  
> (Even if those hours and the what-ifs still give me anxiety. I'm workin' on it.)  
> Please excuse my rambling, fic AND notes :P Largely unedited so.


End file.
